Crobuck: Search for Winterbourne
by Possessedcheddar
Summary: Crobuck,an Orcish warrior with a surprising intellect,is thrown into a quest to uncover a way to save the beautiful city of Whiterun after it is attacked by creatures from the realm of Oblivion. Joined by companions with their own agendas,he will travel the length and breadth of Skyrim on his quest,uncovering lost secrets and discovering why some secrets should remain that way.
1. Honeyed Words

_Crobuck_

Crobuck walked into the Bee and Barb, a solidly built local tavern near the center of the bustling town of Riften, and looked around. He noticed a young woman in worn leather armor offering him a scornful look from the north corner of the main dining room. Crobuck walked over to meet her.

"What do you want?"

Crobuck shook his head, "You're a pleasant enough sort." He snorted derisively and paused to consider her for a moment. "I'm new to this city; I thought you looked like someone who knew their way around the place pretty well." She glared at him, "you obviously don't know how this place works. Many a man has lost his life for asking questions here. Everyone minds their own business; you should learn something about that."

Crobuck was slightly taken aback by her aggressiveness. He normally associated aggression on this level with women of his own Orcish race. He looked down at her

"I apologize fo-"

The woman interrupted him, "don't be sorry. Just go away. I want to be miserable in peace without some idiot Orc bothering me."

Crobuck sat down at a nearby table. His first interaction with a citizen of the city, aside from the guards at the gate trying to drain his coin pouch dry, was not very pleasant. He waved at a passing waiter. The man walked over and offered him a menu.

Crobuck looked up at the man and asked "Is that woman over there always so unapproachable?" the man looked across the lamp-lit room and nodded. Without taking his eyes off the woman, who pretended not to notice the man staring, he said "Her family was killed by bandits led by an Orc. She managed to escape a similar fate but she is like a feral animal now. Stay away from that one."

Crobuck shook his head. "Has anyone tried to help her?" The waiter nodded once more, and responded with "She yelled at them too. Now she resides here, soaks up booze and starts fights with random strangers." The massive Orc said "sounds like the ideal Nord woman." The waiter was not amused and turned his head to look at Crobuck, "she's not a Nord. And she's not ideal for anything other than being a problem." He placed a folded cloth and a tankard on top of it. The metal vessel sweated cool beads of moisture and the faint aroma of honeyed mead was a rare pleasure for the Orc. With this, the waiter walked away to help another patron.

The woman began her approach as the waiter left. Crobuck saw her coming and raised an eyebrow at her as she approached. The lower half of his face was obscured by the mug in his hand; he pushed the chair on the opposite side of the table out with his foot and beckoned her to take a seat in it as he lowered the tankard back onto its linen cloth.

"I'm not your enemy."

Her eyes burned with barely contained anger, it was directed at nothing in particular, just anything she saw; "you're not my friend either; stop trying to get information about me. Last warning." The woman punctuated every word with a minute pause between words.

Crobuck was a massive man, towering over all but the tallest Nords and High Elves; even so, this fiery tempered woman had given him pause. "You're one of the first people ive met in this city and you really are making a bad name for it." She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing to tiny slits as she did so. "You think this is some sort of game? You idiot. This city is a place of secrets, back alley deals and corruption. Under a veneer of pretty wood and vibrant color this place is cancerous. People with nothing left come here and when they get here, they continue to have nothing." Crobuck looked up at the woman; he had enraged her. Crobuck asked nonchalantly,

"People like you?"

It was a low blow and the Orc knew it. He, however, no longer cared. He was tired of being talked to as if he were a simpleton. The woman stiffened as if struck but recovered quickly and drew her daggers, one in each hand. She moved with the grace of an acrobat and with a speed he could barely follow.

Crobuck leapt back from the table, knocking over his chair as he did so. He brandished his own weapons with a raise of his hands. He wore a pair of metal gloves, ribs of metal bands laid one over the other, overlapping like scales, covered his hands. These were perfectly suited for hand to hand engagements. The small woman bore down on him and a plan started to formulate in his mind Crobuck knew he couldn't kill her on his first day in the city but he knew he could win. He just had to knock her down hard enough to gain the upper hand. She was fast and agile but Crobuck was strong and had a reach far longer than hers.

Everyone in the tavern turned to see the fight and they watched in wonder as the two bobbed and wove around each other, seemingly oblivious to the now encircling crowd. The woman lunged at Crobuck and stabbed downward. Her cut never connected, he hit her hand and elbowed her in the face with one smooth motion. However he didn't see her other hand as it came up across his face as she fell.

Her dagger sliced through the delicate tissue and nerves surrounding his eye. The woman tumbled into the crowd and they dissipated, like water flowing around a stone. Crobuck cried out, he tried to see out of his left eye. He found that he couldn't. She had blinded it. The massive man looked down at the woman picking herself up off the floor; she smiled evilly, "told you to get away from me." She had flecks of his maroon blood across her face and in her hair.

Crobuck stormed over to her, kicking her as hard as he could in the stomach. Ribs cracked and the woman screamed, a dreadful sound emitting from her small beaten frame. She slid across the timber floor, worm smooth by years of use. The young woman knocked over a bartender who spilled his mead flagons all over the floor. His drinks gave the air a stuffy sweet smell as they mixed with the grime on the floor. Crobuck wasn't done yet.

He stalked over to her where she was forcing her battered body to uncurl itself. Crobuck picked her up by the throat with one hand and he clamped a vice-like grip on her hands with his other. Mead dripped off of her brow and leather attire. He brought her face to face with him and made her stare at his now blinded eye. The sweet stench of honey mead mixed with the coppery smell of fresh blood was sickening. "Do you know what it's like to want to kill someone so badly you can taste it? Have you ever felt that way? Ever held the life of another in your hands?"

Her eyes had lost a bit of their fury she looked almost scared. Almost. She spat at him, she screamed in his face and tried to bite him. Crobuck smiled, his sightless eye sending tendrils of blood down his face and into his mouth. The blood made a grisly contrast with Crobuck's abnormally white teeth. "I thought so." Crobuck put his face less than an inch from hers, his voice low and dangerous, like distant thunder. "I will put you down woman, but if you attack me, I will kill you where you stand." He dropped her and took a step back.

The woman rubbed her wrists and glared back up at him. "Won't you leave now, or do you not need that other eye?" Crobuck may have been an Orc, but he knew he would not allow her jest at his excruciating wound to force his hand. Crobuck shook his head; he turned his back to her. "I only needed that eye as much as you needed your ribs." The crowd had now retreated to the fringes of the room, peering at the spectacle but utterly silent.

She yelled after him, "don't you walk away from me!" Crobuck gave her another grisly smile "I thought we had nothing to discuss." He continued walking towards the door, talking to her over his shoulder. She huffed and Crobuck heard the scrape of a dagger being pulled through a leather sheath, his elongated ears twitched at the noise. "Only draw it if you plan to use it woman" Crobuck approached the door, just as he was about to open it, he turned and slammed his fist into the rushing woman's face. She may have been quick and quiet, but shadows are hard to hide in lantern-lit taverns.

She cried out again and staggered back. Crobuck raised his foot and kicked her square in the chest. She flew across the room into a table. The wood splintered and broke under her impact. The Orc walked over to her once more. She whimpered but still she stared defiantly up at him. He felt a strange sort of pity for her. It disappeared in an instant. She stabbed one of her daggers that she had hidden under her body into his calf with a demonic scream. Crobuck roared, the patrons winced as the massive man let out his anguish. He brought his foot down on her hand, crushing it to the ground. He picked her up and cuffed her on the side of the head with his meaty fist. Her limp body fell to the ground; she was out for a while and would have one hell of a headache when she came to.

Crobuck looked at the bartender and his bruised eye where he had landed face first on a flagon; "at least you still have yours" he said jokingly. The bartender marveled at the Orc's ability to ignore pain and helped him get the limp body off the floor so the cleanup could begin. Crobuck tossed her over his shoulder and winced as muscles connected to his face from his neck were strained. "Even when she isn't awake she still manages to hurt me."

Crobuck offered the bartender a sour smile and a large pouch of Septims, gold coins that passed as currency in Skyrim. Crobuck opened the well-oiled door of the Bee and Barb and disappeared into the murky streets of late-night Riften.

The Orc walked over to the nearest guard he saw, and the man's helmeted head turned towards him. "Good evening, the disturbance over at the tavern was caused by this little lady", he patted the head of his unwilling companion. Wincing as he accidentally shifted her weight against his neck, pulling on some agonizing muscles.

"Can you direct me to the nearest apothecary or healer or whatever passes for one around here?" The guard bobbed his helmeted head up and down. Having all the guards wear the same full face helmets gave them a certain type of unsettling anonymity, something Crobuck understood they frequently used to their advantage.

The guard said "around the city circle there is the Temple of Mara, they will fix you up as well as they can. But to fix that", the guard pointed at the wounded Orc's eye," You need to visit the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun." Crobuck thanked the guard and continued on to his destination, Mara's temple.


	2. Zuriel's House Call

_Zuriel_

In the city of Solitude, the capital of Skyrim, Zuriel Blood-Bane sat in his manor house, his lithe slender body resting comfortably in his favorite topaz colored high backed chair. He steepled his fingers and closed his dark eyes.

One would have never guessed he was sizing up the many different ways he could potentially kill the men entering his home uninvited.

Zuriel listened as the tumblers in his front door lock sprang open one by one. Whoever it was, was a professional. It had taken them only 30 seconds to spring the first four tumblers, however; they were in for a nasty surprise with the fifth.

If the fifth and sixth tumblers weren't opened at the same time, such as by Zuriel's key, the door's enchantment would electrocute those outside with hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity. This was made possible courtesy of the resident Court Mage in the Blue Palace of Solitude in return for services the Elf had rendered in the past.

Zuriel stood; he turned and walked silently to his kitchen. The Dark Elf's footsteps were already silent due to his years of practice at honing his skills for his occupation. His thick, lush carpeting served not only to muffle his noise, if there was any; but to also hide some of his ingenious traps for home defense. Finally he'd get to test them.

"What an interesting little game we have"

Zuriel spoke to the empty room and then smiled at himself. As the elf rounded the corner to his kitchen he stopped and listened, his long ears able to detect even the slightest of noises. He heard a muffled gasp and then the sound of a multitude of flailing limbs from the other side of his door. Brief flashes of light poured through the tiny keyhole into his living room, illuminating it in sporadic and irregular flashes of blue light. The flailing finally stopped and all was silent again. Zuriel had to give whoever was out there credit, they didn't scream. They must either be very angry with him or getting paid very well to end his life. Probably both he figured, either way, it was going to be a fun night.


	3. Doctor's Call

Crobuck

Crobuck knocked on the door to the Temple of Mara, a priestess opened it and if she was surprised to see a half-blinded Orc carrying an unconscious woman, she didn't show it.

"Welcome traveler, to the temple of Mara. You appear to be in need of some medical assistance,"

Crobuck fought the urge to nod his head and responded with "Just something to stop the bleeding, I need to get this little lady somewhere before she wakes up, so I need something fast."

The priestess had seen men like this Orc before, during the Great War she had been a triage nurse for battlefield wounded, she had seen enough soldiers to know who and what Crobuck was. "You're Legion aren't you, Orc?" Crobuck nodded, "retired, got tired of fighting and came back home here. Home, such as it was, was lonely. My family, wife and son, were killed while I was away. Looks like the lady and I have more in common than she knows." Crobuck turned to look at the woman who had hurt him and felt a pang of sympathy, even with all the pain she had caused him, he could still relate.

The priestess was curious about the connection between the Orc and this woman but she had lived in Riften for long enough to know that asking the wrong questions could prove dangerous, even for a devout speaker of the goddess of love and compassion. She told Crobuck to wait while she fetched some clean cloths and bandaging material.

Crobuck laid the woman down on a rough-hewn wooden bench and sat nearby. Crobuck was careful to frequently glance over at her for signs of movement. The last thing he needed was a knife in the back during a moment of careless distraction. The priestess returned, "I looked through what limited supplies we have. I was able to find some herbs and a potion, eat this and chew it thoroughly. While you do that I'll soak this cloth and put it over your eye and bandage it."

Crobuck took a look at the woman on the bench beside him and saw no sign of movement; he took the offered herb and chewed it. It had a sweet and bitter taste with a hint of metallic flavor.

"What is this, priestess?"

The priestess turned around, "It's a Nirnroot, and I've found that it's a good coagulant." Crobuck raised an eyebrow, he'd seen nirnroots before but he'd always ignored them, preferring healing remedies he purchased from local healers as opposed to making them himself. Alchemy was not for him.

Crobuck leaned down and allowed the priestess to wrap the liquid soaked bandage around his head. He smelled more of the strange musty odor and told her a little of Orcish medicine. "Medicine is something of a joke in the Stronghold ma'am. Wounds are seen as a badge of honor rather than a debilitating hindrance." When she had finished Crobuck stood and collected his charge from her bench. He thanked the priestess and walked out once more into the busy market of Riften.


	4. Homewrecker's

_Zuriel_

The Dark Elf ducked out of his kitchen just as the door opened, he glimpsed black and red skintight one piece suits on the men and women entering his house. _Dark Brotherhood? What are they doing here?_ Thought Zuriel. He drew his favorite blade from its scabbard and reversed the pommel in his hand so that the blade pointed downward.

He crouched and ran down the hall, careful to keep his back to the plaster wall as he did so. An explosion sounded behind him and his semi-transparent inner eyelids closed to preserve his night vision. Orange filled the hall and various sized chunks of plaster rained down over Zuriel's fine carpeting. Dust filled the air and it became hard to breathe.

Zuriel continued his run down the hall, his calf muscles burning, and another explosion and another rain of plaster sounded behind him. Zuriel took a turn down another hallway, grabbing the corner of the wall, swinging around it to propel himself around the bend without slowing his pace.

Zuriel ran into the library. Two assassins ran into the library after the elf, one staying by the wooden door with a bow, and the other running across the bookshelves scanning back and forth for his target. The assassin stopped for a split second to collect his bearings. This was just the break Zuriel needed.

The Elf burst from cover, propelling himself from the top of a ceiling high bookshelf where he had hidden. Books scattered and pages fluttered in the wake of Zuriel as he jumped. The elf took the assassin at the top of shelf down with a savage kick to the head.

Zuriel put his hand on the man's throat and held his blade beside his face. "Who filed the contract on my life?" The assassin looked past him and bit down hard and clenched his jaw. Zuriel heard an almost inaudible crack as the man broke a hollow false tooth in his mouth. A small wisp of blue smoke snaked lazily from the man's now foaming mouth and he started to convulse. Zuriel knew the smell well, deadly poisons that coursed through the man's nervous system and shut down all higher functions.

Zuriel left the dying man and vaulted over a bookshelf. As he jumped an arrow thunked into the shelf behind him, splintering the wood and throwing chips into the air around him. Zuriel picked up a thick tome, noting that it was titled "Archer's Way" and for a split second he thought of the irony of choosing that writing. He turned in midair and intercepted the next arrow with the book. Zuriel felt something sharp tear at his clothing, he looked down and saw the head of the arrow sticking through his tome. He discarded it and ducked down behind a stack of books, just as another arrow stuttered past.

The elf turned his dagger so that he held the blade in his hand. He jumped over the stack of books, knocking down the dusty old tomes. Zuriel threw the knife, it spun end over end and lodged itself deep in the other assassin's throat. Zuriel ran over to the prone figure lying on the floor. He bent to collect his weapon and the assassin grabbed his arm as he reached down.

"Help me…"

The man's words were gurgled and stained. Zuriel frowned down at him, "oh. I'll help you." Zuriel twisted the dagger and ripped the wound open even wider. The elf stood up as the geyser of crimson subsided and he closed the assassin's eyes. The Elf stalked out of the library to hunt down the others.


	5. The Kindness of Strangers

_Crobuck_

Crobuck looked up from his roughhewn wooden desk in the corner of the small damp room in one of Riften's few Inn's. The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it was warm and there was a clean bed to sleep in.

The soldier didn't require many amenities, but one that he did was the amenity of not getting stabbed in his sleep. It was this that made Crobuck remain awake, waiting for the woman who now lay in one of the room's two beds, to awaken.

She groaned and sat up on her elbows. As she looked around the room at the new surroundings she saw Crobuck and glared

"Why are you here, what do you want from me?"

Crobuck smiled at her and went back to sipping his mead. She continued to glare, "you're in this for revenge?" Crobuck leaned back in his chair, it creaked under his weight and his smile diminished somewhat as his voice took on a more serious tone.

"Not originally."

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the cot she was on. "Well, if you're going to have me lashed or beaten or whatever you intend to have them do to me, go ahead and get it over with. I've got a whole lot of nothing left to get back to. I guess a death perpetrated by you is better than winding up floating face down in the waterway."

Crobuck looked at her, "You certainly are creative. I don't want you dead; I don't pay medical expenses for people I want dead. I want to give you an option." She looked at him, incredulous. "How can you sit there and try to tell me that after you tried to kill me you want to be my ally and give me another chance?" Crobuck responded, "You think I am just going to let you go and forget about what you did to me? No. my option is much worse than that."

She deflated, she had been here before, at the mercy of a man she didn't know. She should have known what the Orc would want. "You want my body, don't you Orc? To satisfy your base desires." Crobuck leaned forward and once more the chair creaked, bringing a fleeting grimace to his face. "No. I offer a chance to see more than the putrescent cesspool here, to escape a life where desires of that sort are entertained. I offer a way out of this place and a way for you to make your own life."

Crobuck clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his thighs. "I am offering you redemption, healing, and a way to move on from your squalid life here. You will give me your word that you will not betray or attack me and I will gladly accept you as my companion. It's more than what anyone else has done."

She lay down, careful not to disturb her recently reset ribs and ran her hands over her face. She quietly asked "Why would you make me an offer like this?" Crobuck stood and walked to the door, gathering his war-axe and shoulder slung bag of provisions. "Family are the only ones you can trust, and sometimes you can't even trust your own blood. But what does someone do when they have no family? When they're taken from them before they could even begin to truly appreciate what a family could be?"

The woman lifted her head, understanding the meaning behind the Orc's words; he too had lost those he held dear. "She follows her gut." Crobuck nodded and pointed over his shoulder to the bulging pouch of gold lying on the table. "I am going to gather provisions in the market place. I plan to leave in an hour. If you plan to leave as well, you will come find me in that time. If you are not there when I leave, you can keep the gold and the room for as long as you'd like. It is your choice. Just remember, the generosity of other strangers may not be so kind." With this, the Orc closed the door behind him and the woman listened to his footfalls as he walked away.

She arose from the straw covered bed and surveyed her battered body. Her curvaceous figure described a litany bruises, scars and lacerations of all sorts. These were the least of her concerns; her physical aspect could be covered, but not her mental scaring. She laughed mirthlessly to herself "I am a broken woman, isn't that funny Drumak? Look what your senseless violence has driven me to. You were right of course, even after I escaped from you, you'd still be with me. Bastard."

She spoke to the man who perpetrated the attack on her family and the murder and rape of its members. Of course he wasn't there and of course she didn't think he could hear her, she hoped that he was a bloated corpse somewhere. She knew that somehow he wasn't though. Evil like his never dies easy.

She covered her body in soft cream linen clothes the soldier had left along with his gold. She wondered how the Orc had become so wealthy. She reveled in the feel of the soft cloth against her skin; even the pain of her wounds seemed to be a distant and unimportant thing now that she felt like a decent human being again.

She looked around the room. It was comfortable enough, and apparently hers for as long as she wanted it. She considered staying, but only briefly. Outside the walls of this room was the same city she'd been trapped in for these past years and the same people she'd grown to hate.

She pulled on her worn leather boots over the faded brown cotton pants that had been left for her, grabbed the pouch of money and walked off to find Crobuck. She found him selecting a parcel of salted meat from the local game hunter and looking at the food with a practiced eye. "Good marbling, good color, no illness or growth, truly a fine specimen of venison. Well worth twelve septims."

She smiled and tapped the Orc on the shoulder. He turned his massive frame to her and offered a rueful smile. "And now you can have your daggers back. I knew you'd come anyway though." Her eyes widened and she realized that she really did not possess her weapons anymore. She laughed in a short snort of sound "Persuasive. Alright Crobuck, I'll help you. My name is Alana Varmas, I'm an itinerate woman with a penchant for troublemaking who now has a chance to see the world."

Crobuck smiled "I hope not to leave Skyrim, but yes I know what you meant." Alana pursed her lips "But first, we need to take care of your eye. I'm not looking at it like that for the rest of our trip."

Crobuck responded with a slightly sarcastic "Really? I thought craftsman were supposed to be proud of their work. Luckily the gods saw fit to gift me another eye. Worry not; we're going to Whiterun where a priestess of Kynareth can attend to my wound." Crobuck dropped a handful of septims into the hunter's hand and the pair left towards Riften's stables.


	6. Assassin In Flight

_Zuriel _

"What a mess. My fine house torn to pieces and you assassins sent to collect my head weren't even able to take it from me!"

Zuriel stood in front of the last remaining would-be murderer. "So, as I asked the others, who filed the contract on my life? See, it's hard for me to ascertain which of the many people I've met want me dead. That's the fun of it I suppose. Well, it was, until you wrecked my house; that was uncalled for."

Zuriel sat with a dagger balanced on the end of his index finger and stared at the woman on the floor in front of him. She was bound with a length of rope and Zuriel had saw fit to make the knots especially tight and biting. She spat at him "You mock the Brotherhood! The Night Mother! You should be dead, you snake."

Zuriel nodded and mockingly made a face that was supposed to be one of understanding "I get that a lot. It's nice to see that so many nice people care." The woman was furious, as was Zuriel's intent. Get her mad and she might let something slip, he hoped anyway.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. No matter what you tell me, you're not leaving this house alive. However, if you tell me what I want to know, I'll let you kill yourself and I won't take my nice dagger here and carve you to pieces bit by bit." The assassin didn't look phased by Zuriel's threat and that's exactly what the elf had hoped for. "Alright well, since this is a means to an end, the "end" being your death, I won't bother sanitizing this before I begin my not so delicate procedure."

The dagger flashed and an ear fell to the ground. The woman screamed in pain and flailed about for a moment. Zuriel leaned back in his chair until her commotion stopped. "Are we finding it a bit harder to hear now?" Zuriel yelled at her. She glared at him and through clenched teeth she said "fine, I'll tell you who wants you dead." Zuriel clapped his hands and in mock cheerfulness responded "Splendid! I'm glad you saw reason my dear, you only have so many appendages you know!"

The assassin surged up off of the floor at her captor and was met with a studded boot to the face and a swift kick to her wounded ear. "Please don't do that again, it's not very lady-like." She yelled out in rage and desperation as she realized just how futile her situation was. "Lord Aserman Winterbourne of Windhelm he's gone and we don't know where he's gone or when he'll return, that's all I know."

Zuriel smiled grimly; well you fulfilled your side of the contract. Now you may dispense of yourself, but try not to mess up my floor anymore than it already is, the Baroness who . . . gifted, it to me didn't have a spare." The assassin smiled through her pain and spat a tooth on Zuriel's lap, it released a wisp of smoke and Zuriel looked down at it. When he looked up, she had somehow managed to roll an explosive charge in front of him.

The small sphere was made of orange terracotta and had a cork with a metal rod in one end, the rod was depressed into the charge and they both knew that they only had 3 or 4 seconds left to act.

Zuriel kicked the woman on to the charge with one booted foot and sprang to distance himself from the blast with the other. Her body absorbed the blast but he had placed himself on a path parallel to her and the bomb. Her corpse slammed into him and hit him with enough force to shatter the nearest window and send them plummeting to the street, two stories below.


End file.
